


Try Hard

by Shadowofthewind



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Just Ashton making breakfast for Luke and failing basically, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowofthewind/pseuds/Shadowofthewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton tries to make breakfast for Luke, and messes up royally (which turns out to be a little endearing).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I have nothing to do with the characters in the story, and it is all fictional
> 
> I though I'd put out a little drabble I wrote because the comments left on my last fic made me smile a lot :)

First he’d tried to make muffins (tried being the key word).  
But Ashton wasn’t patient enough to last the twenty minutes needed for his creations to bake, and he realised later in hindsight, that turning the oven temperature to full-blast wasn’t the right thing to do. Instead of accelerating the cooking time, it resulted in him having to anxiously open all the windows in the kitchen, and fanning the oven in a desperate attempt to appease the smoke alarms, which would be set by the tickle of a thread of smoke.   
After waking up at first light, and gently untangling himself from Luke’s long limbs and heavy embrace quite reluctantly, Ashton had meticulously followed a recipe he’d located through googling “mini chocolate cake things”. Every ingredient was added precisely to the last gram, but that clearly hadn’t made a difference to the ‘muffins’ that looked as if they were made from cast-iron, with a solid black crust topping them, and a bitter, burnt smell cloying to Ashton’s nostrils.   
To prevent himself from ripping his hair out in frustration, he’d flapped around the dingy kitchen like an angered ostrich for a while, until he caught sight of the time on the oven’s digital clock, and realised that in an hour, Luke was bound to be awake and drowsily searching through their apartment for Ashton. Taking a pause from his hissy fit, he narrowed his eyes at the content of the fridge, which yielded little in the way of premade food, and so with impending dread clutching his heart, he took out two eggs and steeled himself to cook again.   
Any attempt to himself to calm down was no use, because for no logical reason at all he was determined to make Luke a nice, simple breakfast, like a good boyfriend would (or could), and failing wasn’t something Ashton took lightly. He could make pasta- or spaghetti more specifically- but baking came as naturally to him as knitting (in short, he was atrociously disastrous when an oven was involved).   
His plan was hopefully still secret from Luke, and if the next attempt Ashton made at cooking came out as awfully as the rock-muffins, this whole fiasco might have to stay under wraps too.   
Omelettes- they were simple enough, right?  
Or at least he thought they looked simple when Calum had made one the other day- or had that been scrambled eggs? Ashton couldn’t remember, but eggs were eggs, and you couldn’t go wrong with them in theory.  
Unless you were him, and managed to put sugar instead of salt in a damn omelette.   
It took a lot of will power to not put his biceps to use and hit something with the frying pan he was clutching in a death grip. But that would wake Luke up, and he still had a little more time to make something half edible to surprise him with, so what was the harm in trying? Why Ashton was still pushing forward more ideas should’ve been a testament to his love for Luke, but it mostly just displayed brute stubbornness.   
And really, how did he manage to mix up salt and sugar?  
Muttering a wide variety of curses under his breath, Ashton took to google for another recipe, swearing to himself that he’d be more patient and focused for his third cooking effort. Three times a charm and all that.  
He knew from their tour in America that Luke loved diners, especially a traditional diners breakfast. He’d eat waffles by the pound and top it off easily with a milkshake, something Ashton was jealous made no difference to the boy’s lankiness.   
They didn’t have a waffle maker, but who needed special equipment to make pancakes? He was pretty sure they had nutella tucked away in a cupboard somewhere, but it was hard to reach to the top cabinets as the kitchen was getting so cluttered with all his failed struggles at breakfast, and not to mention the dirty dishes he’d pilled on any flat surface in the room.   
Finding an old cereal bowl that was clearly from Disneyland by Mickey Mouse motifs lining the outside, Ashton deemed it good enough to make the pancake batter in, and commenced with his scrupulous following of the recipe- his brows pulled in a resolute frown, and his bottom lip pulled between his lips in concentration.   
His breathing was cut short by the pressure of a chin leaning on his right shoulder, and two arms encircling his waist, which pulled Ashton back a little, until he could feel the weight of Luke’s chest against his back.  
“Why are you up making a mess so early?” a voice thick with tiredness and amusement asked.  
Gulping loudly, Ashton set down the fork he was using to mix the pancakes with, “I um, wanted to make you breakfast,”  
He felt Luke’s chin shift, and didn’t have to look to know that the younger boy was beaming.  
“Really? What are you making?” taking a glance around the kitchen, Luke added, “or what have you made already…”  
“Yeah there might not be any breakfast if you don’t let me concentrate and make these pancakes,” Ashton rushed to distract Luke’s attention from the monstrosity of his mess and mistakes that littered the kitchen.  
Intent on avoiding his boyfriend’s warm gaze, Ashton willed his cheeks to stop blushing with a concoction of shame and embarrassment, and nervously prepared a pan to cook the batter in.  
Tightening his grip round Ashton’s hips, the other boy hummed lazily as he watched Ashton nervously measure out a ladle-full of pancake mixture and pour it into a sizzling pan. He gave Ashton a light peck on the boy’s warm cheek as bubbles started to form on top of the frying pancake.  
“Do you want me to show you how to flip it?”   
Raising an eyebrow, Ashton quipped, “Luke, you can’t even boil an egg, how are you gonna flip a pancake for christ’s sake.”  
“I’ll have you know that I used to make all the pancakes for my family on Pancake Day.”  
“Yeah right,” Ashton snorted, but didn’t pull away when Luke’s hand covered his on the frying pan handle. “Your hands are smaller than mine,” he muttered crossly.  
“But I can flip a pancake better than you,” the other boy chuckled deeply, setting Ashton’s heartbeat racing, “on three, one, two, and flip!”  
True to his word, Luke did know how to toss a pancake, leaving Ashton feeling slightly useless as the younger boy’s hand guided his to make the breakfast that Ashton was supposed to have made for Luke.  
“You don’t have to help you know, I just wanted to make you something nice,”  
“Ash you’ve made plenty of other things already,” Luke soothed him, “I appreciate whatever you’ve made, it’s really sweet that you thought to do this.”  
“It’s not sweet though when I messed up chocolate muffins and a bloody omelette like an imbecile.”   
“I’m sure the muffins and the omelette are fine,” Luke detached himself to find the failures Ashton was talking about, “see? What’s wrong with this muffin?”  
Saying that, Luke soon realised that the bullet proof shell resulting from the fact that they were burnt did in fact render the muffins inedible, and before he could move onto the omelette, the other boy hastily stopped him, and sheepishly confessed,  
“I put sugar in it instead of salt by accident.”  
Laughing properly, Luke’s eyes displayed affection and warmth, “how the hell do you manage these things Ashton? It’s a good job I like you.” He punctuated his last words by kissing Ashton’s nose tenderly.  
“I haven’t managed to mess up the pancakes though, look!” excitedly, Ashton motioned to the golden disc that he’d turned out onto a plate.  
“That’s great Ash, but we might need a few more because I’m starving.”   
“Yeah, yeah, don’t be so impatient.” Ashton scolded, as Luke pulled away to start sorting through the mountain of washing up, so that they’d have something to actually put the pancakes on once (or if) they were cooked.

**Author's Note:**

> Massive hug if you read it all, comments and kudos give me life ;)


End file.
